


I just want to feel your lips against me skin

by scalira



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 00:07:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5686912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scalira/pseuds/scalira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malia hasn’t had to deal with human emotions for eight years. She’s not used to the crushing feeling in her chest, like someone closed a fist around her heart. She’s not used to the feeling of having lost something important. In the wild, there was only hunger and physical pain. Emotions were not relevant, not important to survive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I just want to feel your lips against me skin

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place somewhere after 3x24, except Allison wasn't killed by the Oni. Malia is still struggling to adapt, even after her therapie at Eichen.

Destroyed.

The only home Malia can remember, totally gone. Some animal claimed the den as its own, tore everything that even smelled remotely human apart, sprayed against the stone walls to mark its territory.

She can’t stand the stench. She crawls out of the den that is no longer hers, gagging and watery eyed. Once she’s outside, she spits on the ground - her own way of marking her territory - and rubs her eyes.

She hopes that the animal that lives here will smell her presence, will think the den is no longer a safe place.

Malia slides a hand through her hair; her fingers get caught by all the knots several times. Then she takes a deep breath and walks way.

Malia hasn’t had to deal with human emotions for eight years. She’s not used to the crushing feeling in her chest, like someone closed a fist around her heart. She’s not used to the feeling of having lost something important. In the wild, there was only hunger and physical pain. Emotions were not relevant, not important to survive.

She tries to focus on that. Emotions are not important to survive. They’re useless. Pull yourself together.

But every step she takes is heavier than the last. Her body is physically shutting down, and before she knows it she’s on the ground. A sob rips through her throat before she can stop it, clawing its way to her mouth like a monster.

She pulls her legs up to her chest, hugs them close to her. Then she closes her eyes and lets the sadness wash over her.

Malia cries. She cries for her lost den, the last familiar thing in her life. She cries for the life she lost and the freedom that came with it. She cries for her mother and sister because she never had the chance to properly mourn them. And she cries for her father, for the look in his eyes when he glances at her; full of questions she cannot answer, full of pain because she looks so much like her mother, and maybe even a little bit of anger.

She lets the autumn leaves absorb her tears, makes a pillow out of them.

Tonight, she will sleep in the woods one last time before returning to the home she’s supposed to crave once and for all.

* * *

Malia is woken up by a voice. She opens her eyes and sits up straight, focusing on her hearing.

Someone is coming closer. 

She jumps up and gets into position to jump whoever is sneaking around, but then she hears his voice.

“Malia? Malia, are you here?”

“Stiles?” Her voice sounds wrong. Small, broken. Weak.

She clears her throat, digs her nails into her skin.

_Pull yourself together, Tate._

The boy appears from behind the trees and even in the dark she can see he’s frowning.

“Malia, I’ve been looking all over for you. Your dad is worried sick. Is everything okay? Are you hurt?”

Just like that, he steps into her personal space and gently grabs her face. Malia fights the urge to flinch, tries to focus on his warm hands instead.

He carefully turns her head and looks for injuries.

“Stiles, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You don’t look fine. Why are you out here in the middle of the night?”

Malia shrugs and averts her gaze, but Stiles forces her to look at him.

“Hey, it’s okay. You can tell me.”

She sighs.

“It’s stupid. I was in my den earlier, I don’t even know why. Some animal pissed all over it, claimed it. It’s- it’s silly. It’s noth - nothing.”

But it isn’t nothing. If it were nothing, tears wouldn’t be spilling from her eyes again. If it were nothing, she wouldn’t feel so incredibly sad.

If it were nothing, Stiles wouldn’t pull her to his chest in a tight hug.

“Shhh, it’s okay. It’s okay. Everything will be alright,” he breathes as he strokes her hair.

Malia cries into his shirt for a few minutes. Then he cups her cheeks, pulls back her head to look her in the eye.

He wipes some tears away with his thumb. Others, he kisses away. First her cheekbone, then her cheek, then the corner of her lip. Malia closes her eyes, lets him kiss her like she’s about to break.

He’s about to pull back, but Malia grabs him by the waist and pulls him back.

He woke up a new kind of hunger inside her. Where she used to only be hungry for food, for meat, she’s now hungry for _him_. For his touch, his lips, his body.

She’s so hungry, and he’s the only one who can still it.

“Take it off,” she breathes against his lips, tugging at his shirt. He doesn’t need to be told twice, only pulls back from their kiss to pull his shirt over his head.

Then he lifts her up, wraps her legs around him. He seeks out a tree to help hold her up, pushes her back against the bark. Malia gasps when the structure scratches against her exposed skin.

Stiles’ lips travel down her jaw and throat, occasionally biting into her flesh. Malia’s nails dig into his back, making him grunt. 

As he’s sucking a hickey into her neck, she manages to unbutton her shorts and slide out of them. Stiles’ pants are next.

He steps out his jeans, shifts her weight and gently puts her down on the ground.

His hands disappear under her shirt and Malia sucks in a breath.

“Sorry, cold hands,” Stiles apologizes against her collarbone.

“It’s okay,” Malia breathes.

“I’ve been there.”

Stiles chuckles, remembering their time in Eichen. There, Malia had been the one with freezing fingers. Now it’s the other way around.

Malia’s shirt quickly comes off as well. Now they’re both stripped to their underwear, slightly shivering in the chilly autumn breeze.

Malia embraces the boy on top of her, tries to soak in his heat. Their lips never part, seem to be glued together.

Stiles’ hand quickly finds its way to her thighs and she willingly opens her legs for him. 

Malia closes her eyes as he dips his fingers in her panties, letting the feeling of finally being whole again carry her away.

* * *

“See those three stars over there?” Stiles points, pulling Malia closer to his chest. They’re lying on a mattress of leaves, staring up to the night sky.

“Uhu,” Malia nods.

“That’s Orion’s belt. And that constellation right there? That’s Pisces.”

Malia looks up to the boy next to her. His eyes are fixated on the sky and his smile is dorky and genuine.

She reaches out to touch his moles.

“Your moles look like a constellation,” she whispers.

Stiles turns to look at her.

“Do they?” He wonders with a smirk.

“Yeah.” She traces his moles with her pinky finger, but then Stiles grabs her wrist and presses a kiss on the inside of her hand.

“How are you holding up?”

“What do you mean?” She asks.

“I know it must be hard. Turning back after all those years, having to act human again. How’s it going?”

Malia shrugs, shifts on his chest.

“It’s easier when I’m with you,” she admits. And it’s true. When she’s with Stiles, she forgets her problems. She forgets her loneliness, her loss, her pain. When she’s with him there are only butterflies and fireworks and hope. Stiles makes her world a better place.

Stiles bends down to peck her on the lips.

“I think I’m falling in love with you.” 

He says it so silently, she almost misses it. 

She looks up and knows her eyes are big with surprise.

“I didn’t mean to,” he breathes. 

“I guess I’m just too irresistable,” Malia jokes.

Stiles laughs.

“You are.”

They lie there until they can’t feel their toes. Then he takes her home, but Malia isn’t ready to say goodbye yet.

That’s how she ends up at Stiles’ house after he let her dad know she was okay.

It’s the first of many sleepovers.


End file.
